


Outsiders

by FrancisMitherz



Category: Original Work
Genre: AI, Artificial Intelligence, Gen, Racism, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, not really racism but prejudice against AIs, this is an original work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancisMitherz/pseuds/FrancisMitherz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brown sprang out from under the jet, standing rigid as a wooden board. Essex, Brown’s companion, stood calmly. The captain of the U.S.S. Hound walked slowly down the aisle, her eyes passing coolly over the rows of men and women. She paused when she reached Brown and Essex.</p>
<p>Passing Brown, she came to rest before the mech, eyebrows raised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outsiders

**Author's Note:**

> My English class was assigned to write a short story for our science fiction unit, to do with artificial intelligence. This is what I came up with. If you like it or have constructive critique (which is requested), please comment rather than give kudos.

Outsiders

“Attention! Captain on deck!”

Brown sprang out from under the jet, standing rigid as a wooden board. Essex, Brown’s companion, stood calmly. The captain of the U.S.S. Hound walked slowly down the aisle, her eyes passing coolly over the rows of men and women. She paused when she reached Brown and Essex. Passing Brown, she came to rest before the mech, eyebrows raised.

“This is the SX-27 model, yes?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Brown answered, his voice strained. Brown didn’t like dealing with officers; the higher the rank the more anxious he became. “Most efficient one they’ve come out with. Smartest, too.”

She considered Essex. “SX-27,” she said, “designate your function.”

Speaking in a soft, relaxed voice, the robot responded, “I am programed to carry out any of a number of tasks required for the upkeep and defense of any vessel in the United States Air Force and protection of the life any soldier. Routine maintenance of aircraft is my primary function.”

“Good.” She turned to Brown. “It does its job well?”

“Yes, ma’am. Very efficient, takes only a quart of fuel a day. And in just a few weeks he’s achieved my level of skill with machines.”

Jackson nodded. She gave Essex a last glance before continuing with inspection. Another minute passed and the captain and her escort left. Everyone returned to work.

“Fascist.” His unconcerned, disconnected air suddenly gone, Essex swiped up Brown’s toolbox and bent down to look underneath the fighter.

“Hey, watch it!” Brown snapped. “You want to be put on report?” He lay on his back and slid under the plane’s belly. “Power drill.”

Essex placed the tool in the proffered hand. “Those guys treat me like I’m some mindless machine, like I’m less than human. What’d you do if someone did that to you?”

“I’d ignore it or complain to an officer. Here, take this.”

Essex took the metal sheet from Brown, laying it to the side. He snorted. “Like that’ll happen. They’d just dismantle me for being ‘defective.’”

“Kind of my point…” Brown’s hands stilled. “Come take a look at this, will you?”

Essex crawled under the aircraft’s belly.

“There’s a leak in the fuel line,” Brown said. “Think you could do something about that?”

The mech nodded. “Yes. The leak also might be corroding some of the circuitry, we’ll have to fix that.”

Brown’s brow furrowed. “How do you figure that?”

Essex pointed. “See that smudge?”

All Brown saw where Essex was pointing was a very slight variation in the color of the metal. He had to strain his eyes to see even that.

“Well, the fuel’s been leaking for a while. It’s just now that it’s become a problem for the pilot. It’s eating away at the metal here—” he indicated a wall that separated the fuel line from the plane’s extensive wiring—“and if we don’t do something it’ll get to the electrical wires on the other side, and then…”

Brown was incredulous. “Short circuit.”

Essex nodded grimly. “At best, radar glitch. At worst—”

“Weapons malfunction, radar malfunction, engine failure…” Brown swallowed. “Um. Good job. Fix it, will you? I’ll tell the pilot.” He clapped Essex on the chest and slid out from under the plane.

The pilot, who had been sitting off to the side, stood tensely. “How is she?”

“She’ll be fine, just a little gas leak. We’re fixing it up now.”

The pilot looked toward the plane, somewhat nervous. “You mean the mech?”

“Yeah.”

“It knows what it’s doing?”

“Absolutely,” Brown affirmed. “‘S a matter of fact it was him who found the problem.”

“Huh.” The pilot looked back at her fighter. Her nervousness had slightly dissipated, though she remained wary. “Smart one, eh?”

“Oh, yeah. Essex is brilliant. Really brilliant. We’ll have her fixed up in just a little while, and she’ll be back in the air before you know it.”

The pilot nodded.

“All finished.” Essex was standing behind Brown, holding his toolbox.

“That was quick,” the pilot said suspiciously. “You sure it knows what it’s doing?”

“Absolutely.” Brown and Essex left the hangar. As soon as the pilot was out of earshot Brown took the communicator from his belt and said into it, “Engineering to Bridge, this is Lieutenant Brown, number 2-4-6-0-1.”

_“Labs to Lieutenant Brown, this is Private Ellingham. What’s the situation?”_

“Just fixed a jet fighter in hangar… thirteen. Need you to send another couple engineers down to double check everything. Chemist, too, if you’ve got one.”

_“Who did you say you were?”_

Brown sighed. “Lieutenant Orson Brown, Engineering. Number 2-4-6-0-1. I’ve got the new mech.” He waited while the communications monitor confirmed with his boss.

_“You’re the one with the steelie, the SX, I mean?”_

“Yes.” He was getting annoyed now.

_“Roger. Sending Lieutenant-specialist Greenberg, number 3-3-2-7-4, to hangar thirteen.”_

“Over and out.” Brown hung up. “Jeez, I wanted an engineer, not a game of twenty questions.”

“I guess I’m just too interesting,” Essex said sarcastically.

“Nah, you’re not interesting, you’re just weird.”

“’D Rather be weird and shiny than normal and soft, like you fleshies.”

“Fleshies!” Brown laughed. “Look who’s talking, chrome-dome.”

Things continued in this vein for some time, the engineer and the mech trading banter and joking at the other’s expense. When Greenberg finally did arrive ten minutes later, it was to find Brown and Essex thoroughly enjoying their unofficial break. As he approached, Essex grew silent.

Greenberg didn’t so much greet Essex as glance disdainfully in his general direction. “Where is the plane?” he demanded of Brown.

“Right this way.” Brown led them back into the hangar, to the plane in question. “I thought it was just a gas leak, but Essex here reckons the gas has been eating through the divider for a while. He thinks it’ll get through eventually and cause a short circuit.”

“Does he now.” Greenberg pulled a rag from his belt. He knelt under the plane and dragged it along the wall between the fuel line and the electric wiring. He withdrew the cloth and stared at it. He sniffed, then licked it.

“Hm.” He stuffed the rag back into his belt. He turned to Brown. “Well, it seems your machine was right this time.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yes, very good. Why, soon I’ll be out of a job because of this precious little robot.”

Brown laughed uncomfortably, but Greenberg didn’t seem to be joking. Essex only stared, silent.

“Have the gas cleaned up,” Greenberg ordered. “And make sure the divider is replaced or reinforced.” Without another word, he swept past them, shooting Essex one last malignant look.

“Well,” Brown started, “that was…um—”

“See?” Essex’s voice was grim. “That’s who I’d be complaining to about ‘unfair treatment.’ Just watch how fast I get thrown on the disassembly line.” He turned, heading for the door. “The divider will hold. Next job’s up a deck, c’mon.”

**Author's Note:**

> My English class was assigned to write a short story for our science fiction unit, to do with artificial intelligence. This is what I came up with. If you like it or have constructive critique (which is requested), please comment rather than give kudos.


End file.
